Why Me?
by aleclair
Summary: Soul and Maka had never thought much about their pasts. Mostly because they saw no point in it. The past was the past, after all. But after disturbing dreams and curious encounters with mysterious strangers, a nagging feeling started in the pit of their stomachs. Who were these people, and were their pasts coming back to haunt them?
1. Prologue: The Boy with the White Hair

A clear blue sky without a cloud in sight filled Soul's vision. His face glistened with sweat that perspired on his forehead and neck as the hot sun beat down on his head. He hated how it seemed to look down on him and laugh.

 _Thank Shinigami my hair is white, or I'd really be suffering here_ , he thought to himself. A self-deprecating smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Though the heat was blistering, the path he was walking along offered decent coverage. Long rows of maple trees lined the sides of the trail, providing much-appreciated shelter from the early autumn sun.

Soul was shuffling down the dusty road with his hands shoved deep into his jean pockets, shifting decaying leaves out of the way with his sneakers, when he heard someone shouting in the distance.

"SOUL~," the voice dragged.

With a lazy turn of his feet, Soul looked back in the direction of the disturber. There, bounding out from the dense foliage of the trees, came Black*Star, and much further behind him, running at a break-neck-pace just to keep up, was his weapon, Tsubaki.

Soul breathed in deeply and dragged out a tired sigh, realizing the leisurely walk he had been on just a moment ago was now destroyed and distorted into a not-so-pleasant social encounter. Though, considering Black*Star was the one ruining it - _yet again_ \- that was putting it lightly.

Black*Star bounced over with a humongous grin plastered on his face and came skidding to a screeching, overly-dramatic halt just before he would've run into Soul.

"You want me to do something, Black*Star, don't you," Soul asked, the question coming out as more of a statement than anything else. But instead of answering him right away, Black*Star just closed his eyes and flashed a grin, too large for his face. The smile made him look extremely boyish and innocent. It suited him.

"HURRY _UP,_ TSUBAKI!" Black*Star swiveled around and screamed down the path. "YOU CAN'T KEEP YOUR GOD WAITING FOR A SLOWPOKE AT A TIME LIKE THIS!" He bellowed through his hands which he had lifted to form a makeshift megaphone around his mouth. (Like he needed one.)

Soul's own hands shot up to cover his ears, as he attempted to block out the splitting cry. At Black*Star's command, Tsubaki came racing towards them, like the bottoms of her shoes had been ignited. As her slender form got closer, tiny beads of sweat became visible on her ivory skin, falling from her face and sailing through the air behind her, splashing and breaking when they ultimately hit the ground.

She was a pretty girl. Her black hair was long and swayed loosely behind her in its usual high ponytail, and her breasts were large and perky, bouncing up and down under her clothes with every step.

Once she made a steady stop, she left a few paces between her and Soul - probably trying to make up for the fact that her meister had basically taken Soul's bubble of personal space, said _'Death you,'_ and bunted it across the city limits.

Soul and Tsubaki made eye contact. She gave a sweet smile, put her hands behind her back, and tilted her head to the side.

"Hi, Soul," she softly muttered, her voice a little breathy. Her nostrils flared in and out and her chest heaved as she took some time to catch her breath. Even though her breathing was clearly labored, it was extremely controlled, showing off the endurance and physical stamina she had built up through her training. Soul nodded curtly.

He let out another deep sigh and set a scowl on Black*Star. _If looks could kill._ But the spiky blue-haired boy didn't seem to notice and kept on smiling profusely up at Soul. _Bumbling idiot._

"What do you want?" Soul asked him. His annoyance at Black*Star's presence was clear in his voice.

"To talk to you, of course! Why _else_ would we be out in the middle of nowhere?"

"I don't know," Soul shrugged, "maybe you were just looking for someone to pester. That _is_ your specialty, after all."

"HUH?! HOW DARE YOU! I AM YOUR _GOD_! DO NOT INSULT ME!" The loud boy knocked on Soul's head as if he were pounding on a wooden door. Soul's eyebrows furrowed, the right one twitching above his eye; his hands had balled into tight fists by his sides, exposing the whites of his knuckles. He was doing his best to control himself, but his deep breathing exercises were not having as much of a calming effect as Soul had hoped.

Tsubaki let out a laugh that sounded like something of pity and nervous anxiety mixed together and did her best to usher Black*Star off to the side. When she had placed him where she deemed to be a safe distance away, she scolded him with a gentle tone about his actions and left him under a tree to think by himself. It was like watching a mother discipline her child. Utterly ridiculous, but Soul thought their odd parent-child dynamic was why they worked so well together as partners. They just fit.

After walking back to Soul, Tsubaki proceeded to explain why they had gone out to find him in the first place. While they talked, Tsubaki would occasionally glance over her shoulder to make sure Black*Star was still sitting under the tree, not getting into any more trouble. He was pouting and gouging the dirt with a stick he had found nearby, grumbling quietly (for once), but he wasn't making any more of a nuisance of himself. _Thank Shinigami._

According to Tsubaki, they'd apparently been searching for Soul all morning, and when he wasn't found at his apartment and he hadn't been seen in town yet that day, Black*Star had figured that he must be out walking again, so there they were.

"Sorry about that, Soul. You know Black*Star," Tsubaki laughed softly.

"Yep," Soul replied, brusquely. Despite getting a bit of humor out of all of this, he just wanted to be left alone. Was that so much to ask?

"Well anyway, the reason why we came to talk to you today concerns the DWMA."

 _The_ _Death Weapon Meister Academy,_ Soul unconsciously filled in. _Ah, great. What the hell is going on, now?_ A twinge of annoyance was creeping back into his brain. Every time he tried to do anything quiet by himself, something loud and obnoxious (i.e. Black*Star) or something totally uncool (i.e. school) got in the way.

Disregarding Soul's obvious grimace, Tsubaki continued.

"Lord Death has decided to host a special tournament or challenge of sorts at the school for all meisters and weapons who are interested in participating. It's being held so He and the teachers can evaluate how well the meisters and weapons fight together. For students who don't have a weapon or meister partner yet, it's so they can assess their strengths in battle and what they need from a partner to complete their skills." Tsubaki iterated as if she were reading from a flyer.

"So we were thinking," she spat out quickly, "since you like a challenge and you don't really..." she stopped, wringing her hands and shifting her weight in a restless and distracting manner.

Soul stayed silent waiting for her to finish, but he could feel rage swelling up inside of him. He knew _exactly_ where this conversation was going. "W-well, what I mean to say is, since you don't have a partner at the moment, that maybe," Tsubaki paused again, studying him, revising her final points, "you might like to enter into the weapon division so that you might get one?"

By the end her words were so quiet and muted, Soul practically had to read her lips to make them out. Tsubaki looked at the ground impishly and pushed up dust with the tip of her boot. She knew how delicate the subject of getting another partner still was for Soul.

To top it off, at this point, Black*Star was now yelling obscenities to no one in particular, still sitting under the tree, flailing his stick around, and complaining about having to sit in "time-out" like a two-year-old.

Soul started his deep breathing exercises again, hoping that maybe they might work a little better this time. After a bit, feeling calm enough to make out words without raising his voice, Soul lifted his head to look Tsubaki in the eye.

"I don't know."

A deep frown had set on Soul's face and his nose twitched slightly with every breath of crisp air he breathed in. It felt like he had inhaled mint leaves and was breathing water. It burned. Repressing the anger that was pulsing through his veins was proving difficult and all Soul wanted to do was punch a large hole straight through something.

"Fighting for no reason but to be assigned some half-ass partner? Doesn't sound cool."

Soul wasn't the type of guy to rely on a partner in battle anymore, anyway.Not since the last time. They all knew what had happened, yet the subject of a partner continued to be brought up in practically every conversation. Besides, Soul was badass all on his own. Having to babysit someone else would only prove to be a burden.

 _But what if it's not? I mean, it is a challenge after all, and I_ do _like a challenge. Showing off my skills in the arena would be cool. Maybe seeing my abilities will impress Lord Death so much he'll recognize me as a capable weapon and not even_ give _me a partner. Maybe he'll even make me a Death Scythe on the_ spot _!_

Thoughts swirled around in his head. _Should I go? Should I not go?_ They all clashed together causing a splitting headache to unfurl, making anymore thinking utterly impossible, and frankly, plain painful. But despite the mental agony, the things that always beat down any other decision he may have made were those memories. _I will not go through that again. I swore to myself I wouldn't._

"Not again."

"Not what again, Soul? Is everything okay?" A soft voice asked.

"What?" Soul's eyes flew open and he looked over to see Tsubaki watching him with her eyebrows pushed together in worry. She was touching his shoulder, in her motherly way. He figured she was trying to be empathetic. "No. Uh- I mean, yeah, I'm fine. N-Nevermind. I'm _not_ going to the tournament. I just want to be left alone for a while, 'kay?"

Soul shook his head as much to rid himself of the horrible memories as to dispell any thoughts of him even possibly competing. It caused his mop of white hair to twist back and forth, making it messier than it already was.

" _WHAT_?! BUT YOU _HAVE_ TO PARTICIPATE IN THE TOURNAMENT! YOU ARE A _WEAPON_ WITHOUT A _MEISTER_! YOU _NEED_ A PARTNER! IT'S BEEN _TWO_ _FRICKIN'_ _YEARS_ , MAN,"the short boy belted from under the tree. He had stayed there for as long as he could, and to his credit, Black*Star had done a decent job of keeping out of the way. But hearing Soul's response to the school's challenge pushed him to break from Tsubaki's discipline order. "YOU HAVE TO PARTICIPATE IN THE TOURNAMENT! I WILL NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER! IT'S BEEN _TOO_ LONG. GET. OVER. IT," he continued, yelling into Soul's scrunched up face, arms flailing above his head.

Soul covered his ears, desperately trying to drown out some of Black*Star's cacophonies, wiping off spit that had flung onto his cheeks. A guttural growl reverberated from the back of Soul's throat. This was _not_ something he wanted to bring up anymore. _Ever._ He just wanted to bury it and _never_ dig it up again.

 _Why can't they get that?_ He wondered. _Why can't anyone get that?!_

"JUST LET IT _DIE_ , WILL YOU?!" Soul screeched back. Right then, a few birds who had been perched in the trees, nearby, took flight and flew away. Black*Star's eyes bugged from their sockets and Soul could practically hear the bells ringing in the boy's thick skull.

Black*Star shook his head to regain some of his hearing and turned back to Soul. Exasperation was engraved in the creases on Soul's forehead.

"Uh..." Black*Star lagged, taking a couple steps towards Tsubaki, putting a bit of space between the two boys. "Alright, Soul," he said, chuckling lightly like the white-haired boy had told some kind of joke. "You don't need to fight. But just promise me that you'll think about it, m'kay? Even if you _don't_ sign up, just come to see _us_ , man," he motioned back and forth from Tsubaki to himself. That over-sized grin of his was present once again. "It'll be awesome! We plan on kicking some serious _ass_ out there in that arena! You got that?" Black*Star threw a big thumbs up in the air.

Soul huffed and closed his eyes, pulling his chin close to his chest. He took a few deep breathes to clear his head, (though the calming effect was still little to none), and organized his thoughts before meeting Black*Star's gaze.

"Yeah. I got it, buddy." With Soul's mind somewhat at peace and the frustration beginning to subside, he flashed Black*Star his signature toothy smirk and slowly stretched out a fist.

"ALL _RIGHT_!"Black*Star cried out and bumped his knuckles together with Soul's. Tsubaki closed her eyes and gave a small smile, letting out an anxious breath. She seemed relieved to know that Soul would at least give it some thought.

After all three of them had exchanged friendly smiles and nods, Soul turned around and began sauntering down the path again. Once he had progressed far enough from where he had left his two friends, Soul threw a lazy hand into the air to signal a final goodbye and disappeared from view.


	2. Chapter 1: A Strange Meeting - Part One

The landscape was green and lush with grass, far as the eye could see. But there was something about it, the too crisp surroundings, the overly intense colors, the blinding light... Soul looked around, but the only other things present were the bright blue sky and a few lazy wild-flowers swaying back and forth.

 _That's odd_ , he thought, _the flowers are moving, but I feel no wind._

Nothing was making sense and it all felt extremely surreal - dreamlike.

 _Maybe it was_ , he thought. Maybe this whole scene was simply his imagination concocting a fake world while he slept. Soul scratched the back of his head and wormed his other hand into one of his front pockets. He was dressed casually in a pair of dark skinny jeans and a cotton, white, V-neck t-shirt, and his feet were bare which allowed his toes to wriggle around in the soft grass.

With a heavy sigh, Soul began aimlessly walking in a direction he hoped would lead to some type of civilization; (if this _wasn't_ a dream).

A few minutes had passed, Soul guessed, and he was still stumbling along through the open meadow with no real destination in sight, when he could've sworn he heard a soft laugh chime from somewhere to the right. His head spun around. It was like an echo and faded as quickly as it had come. He stood still, not wanting to walk away from that spot, not wanting to miss it if the laughter rang again. Soul's body swiveled around, and he squinted as a person trying to shield their eyes from the sun. There, straight ahead in the near distance, he caught a glimpse of a small figure. _A child?_

"Oi..." Soul mumbled just above a whisper and started forward.

 _Should I get its attention? What if it isn't a child?_ He stopped dead. _It could be dangerous..._ Standing there in the unkempt grass, he weighed the possibilities of "friend" or "foe."

"Hey!" He yelled, waving an arm in the air; the curiosity overpowering his better judgment.

At Soul's call, it twisted to face in his direction. The clothes it wore billowed lightly and the ends of the fabric rippled in response to the numb breeze. Soul took a few cautious, lumbering steps closer, and the figure matched his advance. The light from the sky lit it up just enough so he could make out a white dress, sleek but moveable. _A little girl, then?_

"Hey," Soul called again as he continued to close the distance between them.

As he got closer, Soul noticed her dress was covered with a pattern of flowers, much like the wild ones that were growing in the field. She had long, ashy blonde hair that fell in loose curls past her shoulders. The locks shaped perfectly around her face, with bangs that were swooped gently to the side of her forehead.

When Soul came to a stop in front of her, he looked down to study her face, but was struck dumb when he realized - _She doesn't have a face..._

The entire surface where her nose, and eyes, and eyebrows should have been, was blurred as if someone had gone back with a crappy chalkboard eraser and smudged her features away. The only thing they had left was a mouth, colored in with black. From what Soul could tell, it was filled in perfectly. No squiggle marks. No white spaces between the black.

With his eyes enlarged and mouth wide open, Soul took a hasty step back. "U-uh..." he trailed, not having a clue of what to say.

The little girl's mouth was facing down like she was frowning, and she held her head at a tilt. She seemed confused, too, and quickly took to mindlessly fiddling with the sides of her dress, crumpling and uncrumpling the fabric between her thin, pale fingers. Soul held his stance as coolly as he could muster, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants and slouching his shoulders back, placing all his focus on the faceless child before him. She looked fragile, and yet, curiously familiar in a déjà-vu sense. Then a hushed sound, like a low beeping, bobbed in the air.

"Who-?" Just then the girl let out another giggle, not letting him finish.

Before he could say or do anything else she took off running as she laughed, happily. "Hey, wait!" Soul yelled, outstretching an arm. He ran after her, but no matter how far or how fast he went, the distance between them never seemed to diminish. In fact, it looked like he was falling _further_ behind.

The beeping started getting louder and more fervent.

Soul ignored the alarm and continued chasing after the girl; but she kept running away, giggling the whole time. For whatever reason, his thoughts wandered to her laugh, and he couldn't help but admit that it was a _nice_ laugh. A charming, light, and airy sound, much like a chime when it jangled. Then, suddenly, he found himself racing just behind her. So close that Soul could hear her panting and distinguish her swishing footsteps from his own as they hit the grass. Seizing the chance, he reached out his arm once more to grab hers, when she turned her head to glance at him.

For a moment, everything paused, before continuing in slow motion.

The girl's hair swept back behind her right shoulder and bounced delicately along with each step. Her mouth turned upwards with a sort of wide smile as her chin made its way in his direction.

She was _just_ out of reach, and he was _so_ close to catching her.

The beeping was unbearable at this point and with each blaring noise, the scenery dissolved into an abyss, leaving only the girl and Soul, still playing that peculiar game of tag.

With his arm still outstretched in bated anticipation, Soul watched as she put out her own for him to take at a sloth's pace. He was _so_ close. Their fingertips brushed, the girl giggled again. Though she was within arm's reach, her laugh sounded distant as an echo and faded out, like a song coming to an end.

Now the beeping was so loud that Soul could barely hear his own thoughts; but he knew he had to catch this girl, though he didn't quite know why. He just had a strong, urging feeling; a need to grab her hand and never let go.

Willing his legs to push harder, Soul reached and stretched his fingers as far as they could go, and just as he was about to grip her hand, Soul saw her mouth move, but no words came out.

It almost seemed to him like she was calling his name.

"Wha-?" Soul breathed, not sure how she could have known. It wasn't like he had introduced himself, so that couldn't make any sense. But, then again, none of this was making any sense.

Her head tilted to the side like it had before, and Soul's fingers made to close around her small hand... as she disappeared. He stopped running and stood alone in the dark. He gazed at his hand that had almost clasped hers, turning it from side to side as if it would reveal some answer to an unknown question. But it didn't.

Soul sat up quickly and gasped for air. He twisted his head about in a hectic manner and patted his bare chest and torso. He was covered in a cold sweat.

He found himself in the same dark apartment bedroom where he had fallen asleep several hours prior. After heaving a heavy sigh and running his fingers through his bedhead-hair, Soul plopped himself back down onto his less-than-comfortable mattress.

"It was a dream," he breathed with a soft huff. Though he was glad to know that the nightmarish event had developed in his subconscious, no feeling of relief washed over him. The same singeing need from before was still present and haunting.

Soul's alarm clock was going off endlessly from the nightstand beside the bed. So, forcing himself to get up, Soul rubbed his tired eyes and threw the covers from his legs.

"Ugh, f-..."

His hand shuffled around the tabletop looking for the device, eventually finding it buried beneath a couple dirty shirts and next to an old, empty, sticky soda can.

"For Shinigami's _sake_! Where's the damned _snooze_ button?!" Soul yelled out as he tried, unsuccessfully, to shut off the obnoxious device. After what seemed like an eternity, and one uncool splitting headache later, he finally figured out where the button was located to shut it up. He could have won an award for the sigh he made.

 _Longest and Heaviest Sigh Ever Towards an Inanimate Object Award_.

Walking sluggishly back to his bed, Soul sat on the edge and rested his elbows on his knees, hunching over. He lifted a hand and rubbed his blood-shot eyes, again. He breathed heavily through his nose and turned his neck with a lazy motion up at the beaming red light.

 **7:30 A.M.** , the dumb clock projected onto the ceiling.

"Ugh, Death. So _not_ cool," Soul complained in a raspy voice as he stood back up from his oh-so-tempting bed, stumbling his way to the bathroom across the hall.

"That dream was odd," he muttered to himself in the twilight. "Wonder what it could've meant? Who _was_ that weird girl, anyway?" Still mulling over all the possible explanations and coming up dry, Soul turned the silver knob and opened the bathroom door. The metal was cool on his skin.

 _I've been living in this apartment by myself, now, a little over six months_ , he mulled, _and I'm_ still _not used to the silence in the air. Usually,_ some _one would be playing music at any and every hour all around the house..._

Dreary, and feeling mentally exhausted from the nightmare he had, Soul searched along the wall until he felt the light switch and flicked it on. "Ugh... Death, it's bright in here. I _really_ need to change these bulbs to a light dimmer," he grumbled. Soul wasn't much of a morning type of guy. In any case, mornings were _so_ not cool. _Now_ sleep, he thought, sleep _was cool._

After spending a good ten minutes or so in the bathroom doing his usual morning rituals, Soul made his way back to his room.

 **7:42 A.M.**

 _I hate that red light._

He breathed out a deep sigh and got undressed. He was sighing a lot that morning.

First, Soul removed his shirt, exposing his bare chest to the cool air of the day. A shiver ran down his spine. "L-Lord Death, it's cold as hell in here," he grouched, teeth quietly chattering. Then he slid off his pants, and so on, continuing to complain about the chill in the air until he was standing fully naked.

He made his way over to the old, wooden dresser and took out a white t-shirt; a pair of faded jeans; a new pair of black boxers with the DWMA skull patterned all over them; ankle-high, white, cotton socks; and a simple black tie.

There was a school dress code that he was supposed to adhere to: a white or beige collared, button-up shirt with long sleeves; black dress pants; a brown or black belt; dress socks; a nice tie (any color); and black or brown dress shoes that laced up.

But Soul didn't give a rat's ass about the uncool rules and regulations the school was trying to impose on him, and he knew that no one at the DWMA would tell him otherwise about his clothes of choice.

In all honesty, all the school's faculty were aware that Soul didn't abide by the common rules set by the board. But they also knew well enough after trying, again and again, to get him to cooperate that it was a battle better left alone. Frankly, they were just happy he was rebelling against his clothing, rather than causing havoc on school grounds, and Soul knew this.

He liked to think of it as being a "rebel without a cause."

Soul proceeded to walk to the closet and snatch his off-white jacket from its hanger, and his color matching shoes from the shelf in the back. He made his way over to the bathroom mirror to make sure he had the tie on right and gleamed over his appearance.

 _I gotta admit_ , he thought, smirking with confidence back at himself in his mirror image, _I look cool in this jacket. The tie's not bad, either._

Soul was feeling good as he went to close the closet door and peer at the calendar he had hung on it no more than three days ago. "Tournament Day," he said aloud and sighed for the hundredth time that morning. "If I don't show up, Black*Star will _never_ let me hear the end of it," Soul rolled his eyes. " _If_ I can hear the end of it."

With a bored huff, he made his way to the apartment door and locked it once it had closed firmly behind him. Feeling lethargic and slightly bothered to have somewhere to be on a _Saturday_ morning, Soul walked sluggishly with his hands in his pockets to the stadium where Lord Death planned on conducting the ' _oh-so-special_ ' event.

"Ugh. Black*Star, I better not be bored out of my Death-forsaken mind, today, because of you." While Soul sauntered through the streets of Death City, griping to himself, he noticed something pounding hard against the pavement behind him, coming up fast on the right. "What the? -?!"

Before he could even fully turn his head to the side, Soul was body-checked onto the hard pavement, the wind knocked right out of him.

"Ugh..." he moaned quietly, reaching behind his head to hold the back of his throbbing skull, propping himself up painfully on a scraped elbow, doing his best to catch his breath.

 _What the hell_ was _that?_ Soul's thoughts were jumbled around from the impact. After a couple painful seconds or so, he gained a bit of coherency back and was able to pick up a faint scent. _Gardenias? Perfume. This is-_ Soul pondered for a moment before realizing the situation he was in and what it must look like to people passing by — though in all fairness, he didn't really care now; his head hurt too much to honestly give a shit.

He was staring up at a girl who was looking back, doe-eyed, holding herself up on the pavement with the palms of her hands on either side of his head, boxing him in on the ground.

From there, Soul was too close _not_ to look her over. She had ashy blonde hair she'd pulled into pigtails that trailed down to her shoulders. They were in utter disarray; a frizzy, poufy mess and the pigtail on the left side of her head was positioned slightly lower. He didn't think the asymmetry was intentional.

Her skin was clear and smooth and had a pink undertone making her flushed cheeks more pronounced. Their bodies were pushed so close together that he could even see little drops of liquid sitting on her forehead, most likely sweat from running. Her lips were a light shade of pink and glossy. Her chest was heaving in and out with every breath she took.

 _Thinking of her chest..._ Soul thought mischievously, flicking his eyes down past her neck. Her breasts... _Well, you can't win 'em all_ , he huffed quietly in moderate disappointment.

But then Soul caught her eyes. They gleamed in the sunlight. Big and shimmering, as round and shiny as Christmas tree ornaments! The evergreen forest of color seemed as if she could see straight through to his very soul. The intrusive feeling made his skin crawl a little bit.

 _I should probably get up_ , he thought after a while, which had most likely been much briefer than how it felt.

With that last thought in mind, Soul sat up slowly, making sure not to bump their heads together and cause either of them any more unnecessary physical pain. The girl, in response to his movement, hastily shuffled off from him and stood with her gaze towards the ground a short distance away.

Once Soul was back on his feet, he brushed himself off, raising an eyebrow at the girl, never taking his eyes off her. _Who is this girl_ _?_ He wondered.


	3. Chapter 2: A Strange Meeting - Part Two

"Sweetie," someone called with a sickening melodic tune. "My perfect little angel~~," it sang again, "you're going to be late for the tournament this morning if you don't get up!"

Maka's eyes flew open, abruptly. The dream she had been having was strange and frightening. Yet, something about it was almost déjà-vu; she just couldn't think of why.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. The daylight that was pouring in through the bedside window was blinding. Maka raised her fists and rubbed her eyes, brushing away all the crusty, goopy evidence of sleep. She yawned and stretched out her limbs. She felt rigid after that freakish nightmare. _It felt so_ real _..._ Maka thought, forcing herself to sit up.

Maka, her eyes still adjusting to the room, put her hand up as a makeshift sun-visor, and peered up at the man looming over her. He had an overexaggerated smile that didn't quite fit his thin, elongated face. The paleness of his skin was aged and weathered, covered in deep-set worry lines from stress and time, but his bright red hair still flamed like wildfire in the sunlight. She despised the unnatural color. It reminded her of destruction and death, and of the innate greediness of the world to destroy everything it touched.

"You remember the rules we established, right?" Maka asked with a stern look. Her eyebrows pressed together. Sleep was still heavy in her voice making it hard to project the full level of her aggravation. _This is_ such _an invasion. Isn't there a rule about giving your teenager privacy?_ She thought, distressed. Maka squinted her eyes and pursed her lips like she had eaten something sour. To her dismay, the man's wide smile wavered but did not wilt. "Don't come into my room unless there's an emergency. This is my private space and I'd like to keep it that way." Maka's voice was serrated.

"But honey, it _is_ an emergency!" He whined in his usual high pitch. He sounded like a child, and to Maka, the connection wasn't that far off of his personal description. "Today's the day my little pumpkin gets her weapon partner! Oh~~! It's so exciting," he sang, "I can hardly wait to see you in action!" He gushed, profusely.

Maka rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. (No really, it _hurt_.) There was honestly no use in telling him to stop, he'd just start up again later if he didn't get it all out of his system then.

"Right..." she murmured. "Can you get out now so I can get dressed?"

"Oh! I almost forgot; silly me," he chuckled, shaking his head and lightly tapping the edge of his palm on his forehead. Maka, who had gotten up by this time and walked over to her dresser for her undergarments, turned her head just enough to glimpse his face over her shoulder. "I had to wake you up, Makie-kins."

"Don't call me that," Maka said harshly, "I haven't been your _'Makie-kins'_ since..." she stopped. _Since mom left us_ , she thought. Her eyes lowered to look at the folded clothes in the drawer, a slight frown on her face. "For a while," she finished in a hushed tone.

"Well that's not true," he said softly, raising an eyebrow and smiling down at her. It was a lopsided half-smile, and Maka thought it looked more sad than happy. "You'll _always_ be my little Makie-kins."

She rolled her eyes again. Spirit had insisted that they were this close-knit family of two for the past year. But she knew better. She _knew_ her fickle father, inside and out, and what they really were: mismatched puzzle pieces; a broken pairing that would never resonate together right.

Spirit took a quick deep breath through his nose, raising his shoulders as he did so before letting them flop back down. "Well, anyway," he continued on like nothing had been said, "you must have slept through your alarm earlier because it's almost thirty minutes before your match begins. You better get goin' kiddo if you wanna make it in time."

He had that too-big grin on his face again.

Maka's head immediately whipped around to stare at her windup clock.

 **7:58 A.M.**

Her stomach wrenched and twisted painfully. If she had felt nervous about the day before, she really felt nervous now. _Death! I'm going to be_ so _late!_ She was in a full-on panic mode. Her heart was pounding, her mind was whirring, her palms were sweating, her feet were racing around the house; everything that could have gone wrong that day, pretty much just had.

"Okay - Thanks for waking me up. Now get. O _ut_!" Maka groaned, pushing him through the doorway. He dragged his feet, making himself difficult to move. "Ugh!" She continued shoving his body, shifting to her side, pressing her shoulder into his back and using her whole body as leverage.

"Alright, alright," Spirit laughed, more to himself than to Maka. "Good luck today!" He grabbed the frame of her door and turned his head to look back at her; Maka still elbowing him out, rolling her eyes, yet again.

"Yeah, okay. Leave. _Now_."

He looked disheartened.

"Okay, I'm going." A soft sigh escaped his lips, defeated, and he threw his hands up in the air, conceding. "I'll see you there. _Ah_!" He gasped, eyes bulging. He stopped the door from slamming with the tip of his shoe and pressed his hand against it. "I-I'll be the one cheering only for my precious little girl: _You_!"

 _Yeah. That fixes_ everything _._

Maka rolled her eyes one last time when she finally got the door closed and made sure to press the lock immediately after she heard the click.

" _Death_ , he's insufferable," Maka groaned. She could feel a sharp headache coming on. This happened every time she had to talk to her father.

Feeling the time crunch she rushed over to the bathroom connected to her room and took what she was sure was the fastest shower ever taken in history, before blow drying her hair and placing it into two, loose pigtails on the sides of my head.

They were a little haphazard and super frizzy from the blowdryer. She looked kind of like a lion with the amount of poofy volume she had, but Maka didn't have any time to fix it at the moment, so it would have to do. It was just going to get more messed up later on in the arena, anyway.

Holding a pink towel together over her chest she waddled hastily over to her hole-in-the-wall closet, still dripping water down her legs and from her hair across the floor. She found her uniform hung up together all the way in the back. Her baby blue jumper with matching wrist cuffs, and white sleeves, the DWMA skull symbol in dark blue on the left shoulder, hovered on the hanger. Upon quick inspection, Maka saw no major wrinkles in the fabric, so at least _one_ thing was going right for her.

Maka let her towel drop to the floor and shimmied into her clothes.

 _I feel like I'm forgetting something_ , she paused, sitting on her jumbled bedsheets and resting her chin on her fist. _Oh yeah!_ Maka hopped to her feet and crouched down to reach under the bed. She felt around for a moment before pulling back and taking out a new, light blue group communicator. She had ordered it almost three months ago and had been waiting for a reason to use it. Maka smiled at the device in her hands and wrapped it around her right upper thigh, clasping the belt buckle tight enough so it wouldn't fall off, but not so much that her leg would fall asleep.

 _I'm glad this was added to the new, girl's uniforms_ , she hummed, _it'll make talking to teammates_ so _much easier since it works like a walky-talky._ Maka pushed herself up from the floor. _Well, I mean, if you_ have _teammates..._ She couldn't help thinking about how 'lone wolf' she was as she sped back to the bathroom to brush her teeth. _But after today, I will too, so I'll finally have a reason to turn it on during missions!_ She mused with excitement, determination blazing in her eyes.

 _Plus,_ her thoughts continued _,_ _this new uniform the Board installed this year for upper-classmen is_ much _more practical. I don't get overheated while I'm fighting like before, it's lightweight, and the material is_ way _more moveable._

Maka checked herself once more in the mirror, pausing to feel her small chest. _Would a decent_ B _-cup kill you?_ She thought, looking dejected up at the ceiling. After sighing quietly and smoothing her jumper one last time, she held a bittersweet smile and walked over to the picture frame on the top of her dresser.

It wasn't much, just an old wooden frame she had assembled when she was little. But it was her most precious of belongings. Not for its structure, but for its contents.

"I love you, mom. Wish me good luck; see you later..." Maka put her pointer and middle fingers together, kissed them, and pressed both onto her mother's face in the photograph.

She sucked in deeply and set her shoulders back, feigning confidence. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering their jittery wings, causing twisting pain in her abdomen. Looking at the clock one last time - **8:01 A.M.** \- she hustled out the door, not bothering to lock it behind her, and sped down the street to the arena.

Not many people were still walking around that early morning. _They're probably all at the DWMA watching the fighting matches._ The only major sound was the pounding of her footsteps as she ran. It gave her time to think, but her mind kept wandering to that dream...

When it began, Maka was sent to a wooded area that she didn't recognize, filled with evergreens, and maples, and myriads of chirping birds flying overhead in the treetops. The sun was almost completely blocked out by the dense foliage and only slivers of its yellow-golden light peeked through to illuminate the forest ground.

The clothes she wore were comfortable and soft: a pair of weathered skinny jeans; a basic, white bralette; and an oversized, cotton candy pink, knitted sweatshirt that sat loosely on her shoulders, with sleeves that extended over her hands. Her hair was also swaying behind her, free of their usual pigtails. She noticed she had no shoes on, which was a bit odd. But then again, what about this place _wasn't_ a bit odd?

Maka was walking around aimlessly, not quite sure where she was going, when a rustle came from a shrub to the left, behind her. The muscles in her body froze and tensed from her toes all the way up to her neck. She waited with baited breath for the culprit to pop out, all the while coming up with new ideas of what it might be, each one more terrifying than the last.

Maybe it was a murderer looking for the next victim, or a circus with a freaky smile and a bunch of balloons asking, "Who wants a balloon animal?" in that weird voice they make...

But then, Maka imagined something even more heinous than a scary birthday clown or a psychopath killer - A teacher with a paper to give back, with an F scrawled across the page in red correction pen!

Her skin was crawling, and intense shudders were moving in waves down her body. She tried to run, but her legs weren't listening. It was like the bottoms of her feet had grown roots and planted themselves in that spot on the ground.

She had been watching the bush for so long, unblinking, that her eyes felt dry and there were hot tears pricking at the edges.

All of a sudden, the creature leaped forth and Maka let out a cry, covering her face with her arms. _Like that would've saved me from a guy with an ax._

When she found the courage to take a peek through her elbows, a major sigh of relief flew from her mouth.

"It's just a bunny," she breathed, saying it out-loud to reassure herself, and hmphed quietly at how ridiculous she had been.

Maka continued through the trees, but as she walked, the light was progressively dwindling, and her mind began to play even more tricks. A simple bird taking off from a hanging limb became a ghostly blur, their chirps becoming shrieks and screams. Every crunch and crackle of the dried leaves and sticks that broke underfoot sounded like footsteps following behind, making Maka cringe and quicken her pace, which only made the noises seem louder. She could feel a cold sweat dripping down the curve of her spine.

 _What is this place; where am I; what am I doing here, and how in Lord Death's name do I get out?_

Maka could only assume that at that point she had been trudging and stumbling through that nightmarish forest for hours. Just as she was about to give in to the hopeless feeling that had been steadily creeping into her mind and to the physical and mental exhaustion, she broke through to an expansive clearing. It was covered in dark green grass and ghostly white moonlight spilled over the meadow.

She peered around, assessing its level of safety, before taking one cautious step forward, then another, slowly moving out from the pitch-black forest.

Maka rung her hands together. They were clammy and cold. She pulled at locks of her hair, twirling them into tight curls with her index fingers.

As her eyes passed over a particularly grassy spot, she caught a glimpse of white duck into the green. Her legs ceased to move. She didn't dare to move.

 _What was that? Should I run? Is there danger here, or not? If I ran, where would I hide?_ These were the panicked thoughts that raced like cars on a track in Maka's head.

"Wh-Who's out there?!" Maka called out, her voice hoarse; she was so thirsty, and her throat and mouth were extremely dry.

Yelling at it probably wasn't the most brilliant course of action. But she had already processed all other routes of escape, and none ended with her being able to outrun or hide from whatever it was she was about to face.

Sweat trickled down her forehead, dripping from the tip of her nose, leaving her lips tasting of salt and distress.

Maka watched as the unruly grass shimmied to-and-fro as the tuft of white sashayed into view. It kept in the shadows, avoiding the light from the moon.

She was prepared for a fight. Her arms were bent at her sides and her trembling hands raised, forming fists. They were held so tight that her nails were biting into her skin. The pain was intense but knowing that she could still feel something kept her mind grounded. She forced her right foot back so if she had to throw a punch, she'd have some power behind it.

Though Maka was trying to show courage and bravery, a scream of terror was building in her throat, and with every second she stood at the ready, it grew, clogging her airway and preventing release for her burning lungs.

As it came closer, its form became clearer. It was short and the white she had seen looked like hair that flopped around messily on top of its head.

It was only a few feet away now, but it stopped just before stepping into a beam of light. Maka squinted her eyes, tilted her head to the side, furrowed her eyebrows, and relaxed her muscles just so. Her fists loosened, and her nails uprooted from her palm.

"Step into the light..." she said with a curious softness.

The figure hesitated but took a step forward nevertheless. Before her, the small shadow became a little boy. He looked to be no more than eight years old.

Maka traced over him with her eyes, intently studying everything about the child.

He was dawning a pair of grey dress pants, a dark red collared shirt, and a matching grey vest that he had left unbuttoned. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and the collar was a bit crooked. Despite the minor things out of place, he looked extremely well dressed to be slinking around a meadow by himself at night.

When she looked at the top of his head, she again saw the mop of white. It was all askew, going this way and that way, an utter bedhead of a hairdo. Then Maka moved her eyes to wander around his face. It was slender like the rest of him. Though he was young his jaw was already so pronounced and strong. She could tell he would be a looker when he grew up.

He was frowning at her. She thought that he might be assessing her as well.

As her eyes moved from his sternly set mouth to his small nose, Maka gasped when her gaze met his. Her stomach began to churn and bubble again. She was shocked by what she saw.

The boy's eyes were crimson. She couldn't believe it; Maka had never seen such a color before.

She stared into the swirling orbs, mesmerized. There was a deep sorrow about them, like a tiredness that could only be attributed to great loss. It was a tragic beauty, but they still glinted like rubies in the light of the moon.

 _What could he be doing out here, all alone? Where are his parents?_

"Why are you staring at me, lady?" The child asked. His tone was rude, and his eyebrows were shoved together. The frown he had before had become a slight snarl. The boy hid his hands deep in his pant pockets and slouched his shoulders back, giving himself an air of disinterest. "You're seriously creepin' me out. _Not_ cool," he huffed.

Maka shook her head and raised her eyebrows in surprise. She half expected him not to say a word. "S-sorry," she mumbled. "Um... Where are your parents?" She asked. _What was a little kid like him doing out here, unsupervised? What kind of parent leaves their child to fend for themselves?_

Spirit's face formed in her head. _Right_ , she thought, that _kind_.

"How did you get out here? Was someone else with you? Are you lost?" Maka continued to press him with questions, never really giving the boy time to answer.

"That's none of your bee's wax," he growled. His voice was cold, and he folded his arms over his chest in a defensive stance.

"Excuse me?" Maka blinked, a bit bewildered by his off standoffish attitude. She was only trying to help. Who did this little snot think he was, anyway?

Maka scowled back at him. _What a total brat!_ He stuck out his tongue and shut his eyes tight. The force made the skin around them crease slightly making him look like a tiny old man. He was spitting globs of saliva at her.

 _Alright! That's it!_ Now she had had enough of this boy's antics and she wanted answers.

She crouched down she was eye level with him, evergreen meeting bloody red, and took a death grip on his right ear with her left hand. He howled in pain.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow! Let _go_ , you weirdo!" The boy tried to get away and even clawed at her hand, but Maka wasn't about to release him. Not yet, anyway. Not until something was answered. She was done messing around.

"I'm not letting you go until I get some honest answers and you stop acting like a spoiled brat. _Got_ it?" Maka stared him down with a stern expression and he glowered right back.

After a few stubborn moments from both sides, the little boy nodded slowly. He wouldn't make eye contact with her and refused to uncross his arms, but as long as he did as she asked, Maka didn't care.

Letting a sigh pass her lips, Maka let him loose, dropping her hand to her lap, keeping her knees bent. The tip of his ear was burning red where she had been pinching. She only felt a little sorry. He had it coming.

"Alright, look," she began, "I'm not sure _where_ we are, or how exactly either of us got here, but I need to know how to get back home." Maka looked up at the night sky. There were neither clouds nor stars visible, but the moon showed big and brilliant through the pitch. After a brief moment or two, she brought her chin back down. "Do _you_ know where we are?"

At this point, the boy had turned to face her, but he still kept the same nasty, evil-eye as he shook his head 'no.'

 _Death, Maka_ thought to herself. _That's just perfect._

"Okay," she breathed, doing her best to remain calm. She rubbed her temples around with her middle fingers, swirling them around with slight pressure. "Where are your parents and how did _you_ get here? Do you know _that_ much?"

Again, he shook his head 'no,' however, this time there was a hint of sadness on his face. He was just as clueless as she was.

 _I bet he's really scared, even if he won't show it._

The boy rubbed his ear roughly with the edge of his palm and broke their eye-contact to look at the ground. He no longer seemed angry. Just... lonely.

Maka breathed heavily through her nose and looked at the white-haired child with pity.

"Well..." Maka said, her voice was soft. Intentionally so. "At least tell me your name." She tried to smile, but it didn't touch her eyes. He didn't look at her for a while, letting silence envelope the air around them. The boy was still massaging his ear, less aggressively than before, but his lips were turned down in a deep frown. His eyebrows were pushed together, almost meeting in the middle. He looked puzzled and dejected.

He toe-picked the ground with his shoe, making the tip dirty and ruining the (what looked to be expensive) brown leather. Eventually, he lifted his head and turned slowly to face her. But what he said sent ice coasting through Maka's veins:

"You don't remember?"

"What?" She breathed, shock hitting her from all directions. _What did he mean, 'you don't remember?'_

An immense ache began pounding against her skull. It felt like someone had thrown a boulder at her head.

Not even a split second later, the little boy's voice started to skip like an old record player, playing the same line - _"You don't remember?"_ \- over and over again.

Maka clutched the sides of her head and clenched her eyes. _What's going on?!_

When she opened her eyes again, his image was crackling along with the rest of the scenery, the moonlight skewed and out of focus. Everything was breaking apart into fuzzy, spazzing pixels, like an old TV without a decent cable connection.

Maka watched as the boy started to disappear. He outstretched a hand like he desperately wanted her to take it. His tanned skin was translucent.

"Wait–!" She exclaimed, lunging at him, arms spread open. But the child vanished as she embraced him.

"That dream..." Maka panted, "was too real." She was still racing down through the city.

Something pricked at the corners of her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks in wet squiggly lines. She raised her hand to press lightly against her face and retracted them to stare, baffled, at her damp fingertips.

"Why am I crying?" Her mind spaced, feet running on autopilot.

All of a sudden, in her absentminded haste, Maka found herself sailing through the air, feet no longer touching the ground. Then, she was face-to-face with the hard gravel.

 _Ow! My hands..._ Maka could feel the tiny scrapes on the soft skin of her palms. She winced. The dirt that was digging into them stung. _I'll have to wrap them up before my match._

She opened her eyes and waited patiently for her sight to focus. Then she realized she'd gotten herself into a heap of trouble. She was lying on top of someone's chest. And not just anyone's chest. A boy's.

 _Oh my Shinigami! I totally just knocked this guy over! Death! Death! Death! I-I should get up!_ Now _!_ But no matter how much her neurons pleaded and shot commands at the nerves around her muscles, Maka's body wouldn't budge. All she could do was stare at him, delirious, eyes bulging.

 _I am in_ so _much trouble..._

Soon her eyes took to tracing over his face. He had a wide forehead. But it was mostly covered by his mess of hair, which was devoid of color. The oddity intrigued her. It was like the winter snow had covered each individual strand and stained it white.

The boy had a chiseled jaw; she could follow the lines of his bones from one earlobe to the other. The size of his nose was average, but it was perfectly straight, coming to a gently rounded point at the end.

His face was tan and smooth, like caramel. It gave a surprisingly nice contrast to his silvery hair. His exposed neck looked strong and Maka could make out a faint vein throbbing underneath. The boy had high cheekbones, but they weren't overly pronounced. She could tell where the high point was near his eyes, but she couldn't follow them like she could his jaw. A dark pink blush was brushed along the peaks, the deep undertone most attributed to his dark skin.

However, when their eyes finally met, a soft gasp escaped her lips.

Maka was staring into pools of blood. Bright ruby orbs that seemed to get murkier the longer she gazed into them. She was entranced. Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes a little squinted, her eyebrows furrowed, one raising just so, and her head leaned to the side.

"Wow..." she whispered, mesmerized.

Right then, the boy started to sit up tentatively. He winced. His left eye twitched and his nose scrunched up. His brows were furrowed together.

He broke eye contact, releasing Maka from her daze. She shimmied away from him as quickly as she could.

The boy sighed and opened his lips just enough, so she could just see his teeth. The tips looked like they had been filed to a point, as sharp as a shark's would be.

So much about him screamed 'run,' 'get away,' 'danger.'

But Maka couldn't bring herself to leave. Not yet.

She ducked her head down when he tried to catch her eyes again. Her bangs hid the upper half of her face, the ends lightly brushing her eyelashes. _They could use a trim_ , Maka noted.

"I-I'm sorry for tackling you just now," she blurted. The words stumbled out of her.

The white-haired boy didn't answer straight away; he was still looking her over. The intensity of his stare made her uncomfortable. She peeked through her bangs so she could just make out his face.

He had raised an eyebrow. Just the one. "Don't worry about," he said, casually. His hands moved to brush himself off, but his eyes never wavered from her face.

"That's funny," Maka muttered under her breath.

 _Why does he seem so familiar...?_

"What's funny?" The boy asked. His voice was guarded.

"Huh?" Her gaze lifted from the pavement. She hadn't realized she'd said it out loud. "Oh, nothing... It's just that you look kind of familiar, in a strange sort of way."

"Hey, I'm not 'str-'"

"No need to be defensive," she cut him off. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She didn't know why she was smiling. It wasn't like she owed him any kindness. She had already apologized. "I didn't mean anything by it. Besides... strange can be good."

The boy blinked and turned his head. Maka took it as possible bafflement, or maybe confusion.

He didn't say anything for a time. Her eyes mindlessly wandered down to the gold watch sitting on her wrist. Spirit had insisted she wore it before letting her walk out the door. It was yet another 'IOU' gift that he had given her earlier that year to make himself feel better for forgetting her previous birthday. _Again_.

 _Lord Death, he could be so over the top sometimes._

 **8:23 A.M.**

 _Death! My match starts in less than 10 minutes!_

"So, what's your na-...!" The boy began to ask, but he was abruptly cut off when Maka pushed past him, again speeding down the street.

"Sorry again!" She yelled over her shoulder. "I have to go! I'm already really late!" Maka waved a hand in the air. She felt sort of bad for smashing into him and then running off, but she was running out of time.

She had a feeling he yelled something more to her, but she was already too far to hear him calling.


	4. Chapter 3: Can't Win 'Em All

Soul watched the girl speed down the street, her body shrinking before disappearing altogether. He lifted his chin and stared at the clouds floating lazily overhead. The sky looked so calm and peaceful. Why, then, did he feel so shaken up?

He pushed his hair back from his forehead and winced when his hand brushed over the welt on the back of his skull. It stung. His gaze fell, and he closed his eyes, lifting an eyebrow and pushing it against his skin, creating a crease above the bridge of his nose. Soul let the air he'd been holding in pass between his lips

"Well, _that_ wasn't cool, at all," Soul muttered. He put his hands back in his pockets and slouched his shoulders, neck tilted back. His expression had relaxed and settled. But he couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu that was creeping in.

"Oh well," he shrugged, brushing it off, "no sense in worrying about it. Anyway, I don't wanna be late to Black*Star's performance." With a grin, sharp teeth glinting white in the sunlight, Soul turned and kept walking down the quiet street.

When he finally arrived outside of the large metal gates that towered over him like ugly, decorative giants, Soul pushed one open letting himself in and peered around at the bustling crowd. _Seems like all of Death City showed up, today_ , he thought to himself. He moved sluggishly, weaving through the multitudes of students, teachers, and simple onlookers. The leaderboard displayed over the concession stand flipped from one image to the next. As it transitioned to the matchups, a map connecting each pairing to their designated opponents trickled onto the screen. Soul skimmed over the names and pictures, taking note of the ones who had already taken their places in the next round. When Soul found Black*Star and Tsubaki's names, he saw that they had yet to compete but were scheduled to go next.

 _Good. Made it just in time._ Soul smirked and shuffled up the staircase that led into the viewing stands. He turned his head to the right and spotted a seat seven rows up. He wasn't worried about the distance. A large screen that was playing the action in real time hovered over the arena, so no matter where you got stuck sitting, you could see what was going on.

Right then, the previous fight had just finished, and the meister and weapon partners were hobbling out of the arena. They must have been new students; he didn't recognize them. The announcer came on the sound system and began calling out the next pairings to fight.

"Meister Black*Star and his weapon partner, Tsubaki, will be sparing against meister Kilik Rung and his two-weapon partners, Fire, and Thunder!"

Soul sat back in the chair and made himself comfortable, slouching down and placing his hands behind his head at the base of his neck, his fingers knit together for support. "This'll be interesting," he said. His lips twitched up to form a smirk and his eyes watched the screen.

Black*Star bounded into the arena, leaving Tsubaki jogging to keep pace with him. Soul rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Here we go," he sighed.

" _YAHOO_! I AM THE AMAZING BLACK*STAR! I WILL TRANSCEND GOD! WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU, YOU'LL NEVER WANT TO SHOW YOUR PATHETIC FACES AGAIN! BWAHAHAHAHA!" As he bellowed his usual self-introduction, Kilik and his partners walked casually into the arena, stopping short to watch the fool make an ass of himself. The cameras panned close to their faces and you could see them looking at each other, eyebrows raised in confusion.

Then the shot moved to Tsubaki who was trying her best to keep a smile on her face. Sometimes Soul felt bad for her having to put up with Black*Star's idiocy. But as far as partners go, they were perfect for each. Everyone could tell that. Her laid-back, quiet personality made it easy for her to accept and compromise with Black*Star's boisterous and hyperactive tendencies. And no matter what, even though they had only collected a single corrupt soul, they supported and trusted each other with their lives.

 _They're a pretty cool team_ , Soul mused.

A moment later and the starting bell rang. The fight was about to begin.

"Al _right_!" Black*Star yelled turning to his partner. He had a determined grin and his eyes were ablaze with anticipation. "Tsubaki, let's go!" He called to her, raising his arm towards her.

"Right!" She nodded. A flash of light engulfed her body as she transformed into a chain scythe and landed with rehearsed perfection in Black*Star's outstretched hand. They were formidable opponents, no question, but Black*Star had an issue with keeping his mouth shut and his focus on the target.

"Here we go, you two. Get ready." Kilik said. He looked down at the short twins standing next to him. They smiled at each other and jumped into the air; the flashes of light surrounding them engulfed Kilik's hands before revealing two identical gauntlets. "You're going _down_ , Black*Star!" He called to the other boy who was standing, one foot in front of the other, chain scythe raised and positioned to strike at any moment, at the ready.

"Don't get your hopes up, kid. I'm the amazing _Black_ *Star, and I'm gonna _win_ this thing!"

"We'll see about that!"

Kicking off with his left foot, Kilik sped towards Black*Star with incredible force. Inches away, he yelled, "LIGHTNING FLASH!" His feet pushed off the ground and Kilik went up in the air, headed straight for Black*Star's head. The hand of his left arm sparked with yellow lightning, his arm springing forth to deliver the blow.

Thinking quickly Black*Star used Tsubaki's chain to block the attack. In a split second, almost too fast for the naked eye to follow, Black*Star trapped Pot of Thunder between the chain, twisting Kilik's hand causing him to cry out. Then Black*Star pulled him in close and sent him flying with a swift kick to his stomach.

"Ooof," Soul cringed, "that's gotta hurt."

Kilik smashed into the wall, leaving a huge hole in its foundation. He fell to the ground, propping himself up on Pot of Fire and with one knee bent. He was panting. Soul wasn't surprised; a kick like that would knock the wind out of anyone.

"Is that all you _got_?" Black*Star spat at him. He hadn't moved from his original spot at the start of the fight. It didn't even look like he was worried about the outcome.

 _Cocky moron_ , Soul thought, rolling his eyes.

Kilik's head shot up and he bared his teeth, grinding them together. Soul could almost hear the crunching in his head. The boy pushed off again, this time weaving in a haphazard line towards Black*Star.

"Hah! You're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna beat me!" Black*Star huffed. "ENHANCED SPEED!" He darted in and out of vision, moving so fast that even Kilik had a difficult time following his movements. "You can't catch me! I bet you can't even see me! Nope! Not there! Here I am! Gotcha! Now I'm here!" Black*Star taunted and laughed at his opponent, making a thick cloud of dust, concealing himself. "You're so small compared to a big guy like me! Better get ready, I'm gonna end this! Right here, right _now_!" He belted, finally stopping long enough to make a jump towards Kilik, aiming one of Tsubaki's scythes at him. "HAAAA!"

"Black*Star, look out!" Tsubaki's voice sprang from inside of her weapon form. Just as Black*Star's fist was about to contact with Kilik's chin, he noticed a grave oversight.

"Huh-? HYACK!" His body bent inward and hovered limply in the air. His expression looked agonized; eyes saucers, eyebrows knit together, nostrils flared, mouth agape, drool running down his chain, tongue caught between his clenched teeth.

"Black*Star!" Tsubaki cried, turning back into her human form and kneeling over his battered body.

He was curled around Kilik's arms, and when Kilik lowered his fists, he fell to the ground with a thud. The crowd cheered and roared, chanting for Kilik, Fire, and Thunder. They stood tall, Fire and Thunder having transformed back into their spritely bodies. Kilik's face was expressionless, but his stance was proud and strong.

The fight was over.

 _What the hell just_ happened _?_ Soul wondered, furrowing his eyebrows and sitting forward in his chair. _It looked like Black*Star was going to win a moment ago, so how did he lose?_ He looked at the screen for the playback.

Just as Black*Star's legs pushed off the ground for the final blow, the dust had begun to settle around them, and his scream alerted Kilik to his position. He crouched, lowering his center of gravity, and pounded his gauntlets together. They shot out sparks of lightning and hot flames, mixing together into a deadly vortex. When Black*Star was centimeters from his target, Kilik dug his heels into the dirt, found his opening, and thrust both his arms forward, stopping Black*Star in mid-air. The added force of Black*Star's speed made the physical impact that much more powerful.

Seeing this, Soul sighed and bent his head to the floor, slumping in his seat. _The basic rule of assassination is to be_ silent _,_ he groaned inwardly. As entertaining as it was to see "the Mighty Black*Star" hit the fan, Soul couldn't help but feel bad for his obnoxiously loud friend. _Someday he'll get it, he hoped. You can't be a cool assassin if you announce your presence to your target. Idiot._

"Oh well," Soul breathed, his mood lifting. There was no use dwelling on it. He smirked and sat back in his chair, again lacing his fingers together and propping the back of his neck with his hands.

The scoreboard flashed across the massive screen, showing that Kilik and his partners were moving to the next round. Soul waited for them to announce the next competitors and widened his smirk, flashing his pointy teeth. _Looks like this might be an entertaining show, after all._


End file.
